Chapter Text
Goro held a champagne flute between pointer and thumb that he had no intent of taking a single sip from and beheld the gaudy, overbearing spectacle of lights and dripping crystal chandeliers decking out the hall. He idly imagined them crashing down onto the dance floor but found rich people martyred like philanthropists simply for being at a donation rally lacked satisfaction.
Perhaps Goro was in a bit of a sour mood.
Currently he was on the upper balconies framing the sprawling hall, allowing anyone to glimpse down at the dancing couples and make polite smalltalk from their vantage point above them. Some designer was trying to get Goro to endorse his brand - for exposure on social media, the currency most likely to feed someone - and Goro did everything he could to keep the distaste from his face while scanning the crowd for his true objective.
Somewhere among the unsuspecting wealthy donors, like a fox sneaking between fat, clucking hens, there was a thief on the loose with clever hands and bad intentions. If the fool had not made it quite so personal by robbing a star detective, perhaps Goro would have amused himself tonight by letting the pickpocket run free at an event he had no business being.
Alas, it was a matter of pride to make sure that Amamiya character would not get to sink his fox teeth into anything, and make sure his evening would end up being a total waste. And at last, he spotted that flash of red gloves, red tie.
“How about you send me a private message and I might get around to it,” Goro said, shooting his best disarming smile. He left his champagne flute on the balustrade as if by accident and let his footsteps take him back down to the main floor, where the thief was hiding in plain sight by being the center of attention once more.
Clever, but not enough to trip up Goro. Especially not a second time.
By the look of things the woman Amamiya had been chatting up was inclined to let him lead her to the dance floor. Jewels at her throat caught the lights of the ballroom, their glint as obscene as it was unsubtle. And of course her white dress was fully unsoiled by any wine or other potential substances that could ruin a perfectly good garment.
Goro pretended to trip over his own feet and knocked into Amamiya with a little too much force than intended, finding the man not nearly affected enough for such a hard collision. His back … was rather muscular. The cut of the suit would not have hinted at that.
“Oh, my,” he managed ,a beat too late to be entirely convincing. “I am so sorry -”
“Nothing for, detective,” Amamiya said pleasantly, a smile rumbling in his deep voice. He reached out to steady Goro, the warmth of his skin bleeding through Goro's thin dress shirt, and held on for a moment.
Goro wanted at once to backhand his smug face and to ask if he always ran this warm. Thankfully, he remembered the only reason he could feel such a thing was because his jacket was strung over his arm - ruined! - specifically because of this individual. “It seems tonight accidental falls are par for the course,” he said, his smile showing a sharper edge than he had meant to.
Amamiya’s eyes crinkled up at the corners, shining with amusement, like he not only understood the accusatory meaning, but relished in it. What a strange man. Goro would wipe that smile from his face in time.
“Ah, Kurusu-san, you know Akechi Goro?” asked the lady by Amamiya’s side.
“Not as well as I would like to,” the sly bastard replied without missing a beat. Kurusu-san. How interesting that he had assumed a whole new identity on the way inside. “Forgive me, Yamamoto-san, but I am afraid I owe him a dance first.”
“That is right, Kurusu-san, ” Goro said very pointedly, though he had to admit it was a vindicating feeling that the thief had not taken his eyes off Goro for a second since he appeared. It seemed at least he knew an opponent when he saw one. “Or was it Amamiya-san?” He cocked his head with a smile. “Which is it? Would you care to enlighten me?”
“There must have been a misunderstanding,” the thief said without missing a beat, his smile one of boyish innocence. “It is my honour that the esteemed Akechi Goro would know me, and go as far as to seek me out personally. But the man you must have met is my twin brother, Ren.”
His … twin brother. How very convenient. “Is that so,” Goro said, voice carefully blank, leaving the thief to build his lies like a house of cards until it crumbled in on itself.
“But yes.” ‘Kurusu’ remained perfectly confident, his smile growing sharper and bordering on cocky. He offered nothing else, refusing to take the bait.
Fine, then. “You do not share a last name? How … unconventional.”
A wider smile. “He is already married.”
“Oh, is he now? Your brother is rather young to have settled down already.”
“That’s just how Ren is,” Kurusu assured him. “If he sees something he likes he simply - goes for it.” With a single step, Kurusu breached his personal space, changing the distance between them from polite strangers to something much more intimate by proximity alone. “It runs in the family,” he breathed, and Goro loathed that it made his breath hitch.
Perhaps this thief was more than a simple pickpocket. Goro would actually have to keep his guard up. “You know, Kurusu-san -”
“Oh, call me Akira. I insist.”
“ Kurusu-san, you realise I am a detective, right? My senses are honed to notice the smallest details. And strangely, you seem like the exact man who spilled red wine all over me.”
Kurusu blinked with such wide-eyed confusion, it reeked of deceit. “Oh, I would have remembered doing something so terrible! It is a shame that your suit is ruined, though the dress shirt alone looks rather handsome on you. But don’t worry, I get that all the time. People tell Ren and I that we look, ah, almost as if we were the same person . ”
Goro would make him slip. Oh, he would unravel all of Kurusu’s lies, down to his name. And sadly, it seemed he truly would not get the joy of rejecting that dance. Goro, after all, had lived his life by keeping his enemies closest. “It must be tough, to have such a clumsy man for a brother. Say, Kurusu-san … you seemed eager to dance.” He lifted his hand, offering it.
The woman, Yamamoto-san, pointedly cleared her throat and Kurusu offered nothing but an apologetic half-smile before grasping Goro’s hand.
Ah, Goro thought, nonsensically. He took off the gloves. That’s why his skin felt so warm.
“I’d love nothing more than that, detective.” They left the vicinity of Yamamoto-san’s glare and shuffled towards a free space at the edge of the dancefloor. Goro tried not to think about how so far, Kurusu or Amamiya or whatever he was called had absolutely gotten all he had wanted from the night.
He must want valuables much more than my company. There is no way a thief like him would pull all this just for the attention of one detective!
Kurusu hummed under his breath. “Say, since I offered you my first name, may I call you -”
“Akechi-san will do,” Goro cut him off, and swiftly began counting them into the dance. Both of them, somehow - ah. “Are you by any chance trying to lead this dance, Kurusu-san?”
“I assure you I am a fantastic lead, Akechi-san. I rather prefer it.” He smiled a smile that Goro could tell usually won him favours with whatever person was across from him.
It felt cathartic to shut him down. “In fact, leading is what I prefer, as well.”
They looked at each other, mild and pleasant smiles on their faces. But Kurusu’s gaze was calculating, perceiving him anew with an intensity that made Goro’s skin prickle.
Best not to wonder whether that new impression was favorable or not.
“But you were the one asking me to dance,” Kurusu said, the slightest pout to his lips.
“And you were the one who agreed,” Goro reminded him pleasantly, offering his hand. “So, will you follow my lead? We have been standing here for too long. We would not want to cause a scene now, would we?”
“Whatever would we do then,” Kurusu said, sarcasm coating his voice like chocolate covering candy. “If something as terrible as causing a scene happened.” But he folded his hand into Goro’s and, at last, followed obediently.
“I take it you enjoy unnecessary attention on your person?” Goro asked, placing his hand across Kurusu’s shoulder blade, while Kurusu’s hand came to rest atop his shoulder. It was ridiculous how easily they fit together.
Kurusu snorted. “You make it sound so disdainful, even when your voice sounds as if you paid me a compliment.”
“It is a talent,” Goro replied without missing a beat. “Ready?”
Kurusu nodded, and Goro surrendered to the simple 1-2-3 tact of a simple waltz. His feet relaxed into the motion, muscle memory taking over as simple as breathing, even though every inch of his consciousness waited for Kurusu to mess up. Stumble over his feet, step on his toes.
Kurusu did not, in fact, do that.
It was vexingly pleasant, actually, to dance like this. Each turn their steps matched perfectly, leaving them to circle like clockwork. There was quiet satisfaction in a partner who could keep up like this, make dancing feel like floating together across polished wood. It had been a long time since Goro had found weightlessness in a dance. How cursed that it would be with such an individual.
“You seem surprised,” Kurusu told him, voice dripping with smug satisfaction.
“Do I?” Goro asked, playing perplexed by such a notion.
“It was hard to spot, but there was a slight furrow between your brows - it relaxed so nicely. All smooth now. It means you won’t get wrinkles early, detective.”
Cheeky bastard. Goro purposefully took a too-wide step next, forcing Kurusu to stumble after him to keep up. He made a face like Oh, my mistake, and did it again to keep Kurusu’s attention away from reading the details on his face that everyone else overlooked so easily.
Perhaps the thief was more dangerous than Goro had given him credit for. It made him feel unnecessarily unsettled, to be so … seen. So accurately read. Not that he’d make it so easy. “Oh, my! Forgive my clumsiness.”
“Do not worry,” Kurusu replied with some glee. “Since you struggle like this, I will simply lead after this dance. We both know a good lead could allow anyone to dance smoothly, and I am impeccable. Really, in the beginning there, you were too.”
Goro resisted the urge to stomp on Kurusu’s foot and show him what bad dancing could be like. “I think I should be allowed some leeway here, don’t you?” He gave his best wounded look. “Is it truly so terrible to be led by me?”
“I’d go so far as to say it is quite lovely, when you’re not trying to punish me,” Kurusu said, with a grin that was temptation and weapon at once.
For the second time that evening, Goro’s breath hitched. It was intolerable. “Strange,” Goro mused, voice airy. Well, if Kurusu wanted to play it that way. “I would have pegged you for someone quite excited by it. Perhaps a trait of your brother, then?”
That made Kurusu stumble and make a little wheezing sound, like a man desperately trying to hide the fact he had choked on his own spit. Lovely. Goro’s smile came to him a lot easier again. "Ah, something wrong?"
"Your concern is touching." Kurusu’s voice was a little scratchy. “You are rather forward, aren’t you, detective?”
“I was simply sharing an observation with you.”
“I must say, I am hurt.” Kurusu said that as if such a fact would be upsetting to Goro, rather than uplifting.
“Oh?”
“For you to be thinking of my brother, when you are dancing with me.”
That sounded … an awful lot like flirting. Worse than that, had Goro not engaged in it, too? “I’d rather not think of either of you,” he said, not bothering to ease the cut of his words, putting an end to all of that.
Of course, that very moment the song changed. Goro could have groaned at the devastatingly slow rumba that started. And of course, they both shifted effortlessly into it.
“You break my heart,” Kurusu sighed. He did not change their position, but his bearing changed. Kurusu was absolutely trying to lead this dance now, and Goro’s resistance to it brought unrest into their smooth sailing. “Has anyone ever told you that you tend to send mixed signals, detective?”
Goro smiled his brightest smile. “Has anyone ever told you not to switch routine mid-dance?”
“It adds excitement,” Kurusu said, wide-eyed and genuine, as if he was not only perfectly innocent, but utterly appalled at Goro’s sensitive opinions. “If only you’d allow yourself to surrender a bit of control, I could show you how nicely it is to be guided … and held.”
Goro blinked. The nerve of him, to suggest something like that! Kurusu was truly remarkable, in the most derogatory way that word could be used. “Well, Kurusu-san. Amamiya-san. Let me make one thing entirely clear to you, yes?”
The sharp tone of voice absolutely caught Kurusu’s attention. The soft, almost hopeful grey of his eyes sharpened with awareness, left him looking wary. Good.
For a moment, Goro had almost forgotten the actual purpose of entertaining this dance at all. He gleefully allowed Kurusu to lead them through this wretchedly slow routine, unspooling his thoughts without hurry, like a rope for Kurusu to hang himself with.
“Tell me, what would happen if after this, rather than wasting my evening watching you to keep you from unhanding certain treasures from their owners - I would ask the organiser to check for a Kurusu Akira. Or an Amamiya Ren, on the guest list.” Goro’s gaze bore into him, searching for a hint of being unsettled.
Oh, it looked as if a wall had gone up behind those sparkling eyes. The slant of gray was unreadable now, and Goro refused any sliver of regret for that. This was a thief. He was a detective. It was what he did.
“Would that really be wise, Akechi-san?” Even addressing him formally, Kurusu’s lips wrapped around the syllables of his name as if it was an exquisite and rare delicacy. And still, beneath that, thrummed a sharpness that Goro knew all too well.
Who better to hear a veiled threat than someone who specialised in the art?
“And why would that be, Kurusu-san?” he asked, sugar-coating his own hidden threat just as sweetly.
“Would you truly wish for it to be uncovered that someone - my brother Ren, of course - so easily managed to pickpocket the most renowned detective of this city?”
Goro wished that all the people around them would disappear, leaving only the two of them, so he could show that thieving rat what it meant to threaten -
No. He could not let his rage take hold, or he would act too impulsively. Goro forced himself to take a deep breath in, and he held it until he felt like he did not want to commit an unsightly act, and then he exhaled and let that energy go. Ah, his therapist would be so proud.
“You think, Kurusu-san, that I would hold off on delivering justice over such a small thing?”
“I think you are a perfectionist,” Kurusu purred. Purred. “And prideful to a fault, detective.”
“And I think you are delusional, thief. ” Goro bit his own tongue, hard, when the venom escaped from his throat and coloured that last word spat into Kurusu’s face. This good-for-nothing common thief could not possibly get under his skin that much -
“I like you better agitated.”
Goro, inspired, inched closer so his lips were to Kurusu’s ear. “And I loathe you no matter what you do, Kurusu-san. I will be your undoing.” He intended to step away swiftly, trying not to notice the way Kurusu shivered, but was stopped by his hands tightening, keeping Goro in place.
“I don’t doubt that,” Kurusu breathed. His eyes were alight again, like this was exhilarating to him. Enjoyable. “Honesty - it really does look good on you, you know.”
“I would politely ask you to unhand me,” Goro breathed, furious.
“And make a scene?” Kurusu hummed. “In the middle of a song?”
Oh, Goro wanted to give him a scene. But he knew a better way to untangle himself from the thief’s influence.
With a smile, Goro slid his hands down to Kurusu’s hips, cupping the sharp jut of them in his palms. It felt strange, to touch another person this way - but Goro tried not to dwell on it, only focus on his own little heist. He knew Kurusu’s weaknesses, after all. Goro leaned in again, breathing close to his ear: “Kurusu-san … can I tell you a secret?”
“Anything, detective,” Kurusu managed, so clearly affected. It was almost adorable. “Anything you want to share, you can.”
“How charming,” Goro sighed, his hand wandering to the small of Kurusu’s back. “Ah, do you hear that?” He let his hand dip lower, and liberated his own admission ticket from Kurusu’s back pocket. “It seems the song has come to an end.”
He pulled back, freeing himself swiftly and presenting the ticket between his fingers with a smile that came to him very, very genuinely. “Better luck next time, Kurusu-san. Greet your twin from me.”
And with that, he turned and left Kurusu standing there, slack-jawed and blissfully speechless. And oh, did it feel good.
The evening was far from over, but they were even now. Goro would make his rounds for the necessary social calls and gather himself to approach this particular man with a little more regard.
It did not do to underestimate an enemy you wished to crush, after all.